Wanted
by Malletist
Summary: Arthur sat on the stool and placed the Hat on his head. After five minutes, it bellowed out a single word: Slytherin! He hadn't known it then, but he had inadvertently broken the family line, becoming the only Slytherin in the Kirkland family since the clan began. He hadn't known it then, but all hopes of his brothers loving him turned to ash in those short, few seconds.
1. Prolouge

_As a young boy, Arthur always believed that one day he would finally meet his long-lost brothers. Despite the unfortunate circumstances of his birth, they would love him and care for him as though they were all fully blood-related. Past prejudices would be cast aside for the partaking of a celebratory family reunion. As a family, they would travel the country, or just the expanse of London, as Arthur simply wanted to spend time with his brothers. The adventures Arthur imagined accompanying his siblings were nothing short of extravagant, and their endings always came out happy._

 _On his eleventh birthday, a strange letter arrived on his doorstep, and for the first time in his life those fantasies had a chance of becoming reality._

 _Reading the calligraphy inscribing the parchment filled the boy with as much excitement as opening presents on Christmas day. His mother, a fair lady named Guinevere Smith, was happy about her son's joyful rambling, but inside a feeling of trepidation curled and writhed in her stomach. She had been dreading this day._

 _Years ago, Arthur had inquired as to why, if she was his mother, they had different last names. Taken aback, she floundered for a moment before giving in and telling him; his last name was Kirkland, not Smith, because Guinevere wanted him to have his father's surname. That led to more questions, and somehow the fact that Arthur had brothers slipped out and ruined the peace she had tried so hard to keep. He barraged her with even more inquiries about them, and managed to trick her into revealing that some were, at that very moment, attending a school called Hogwarts._

 _That's why Arthur was so excited now. He had been accepted to the very place his brothers resided._

 _Gently, the woman sat her son down and did her best to explain._

 _Explain that his brothers might not be as anxious to meet him as he was to meet them._

 _Explain that the Kirkland family held tradition to the very highest regard._

 _Explain that his very presence might insure some... disagreements within the school._

 _Arthur listened, of course, but believed it all to be poppycock. All he wanted was to meet his brothers, and he was certain that they wanted to meet him, too._

 _Later, the duo set out to gather Arthur's school supplies. They had never been to Diagon Alley, so most of the trip was conducted in confusion. The young boy, now knowing he was a wizard, asked his mother what the school was like. She told him she'd never been and left it at that. Still, Arthur wondered._

 _After a grueling day of buying books, receiving his very own wand, and picking out his fluffy companion, the two finally arrived back home. Arthur ran up to his room, his new kitten prancing along behind him. A feeling of apprehension had stayed with him ever since, in awe, he had accidentally ran into a man at Diagon Alley. The man had stared at him, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open, until Arthur stuttered out an apology and dashed to his mother, who had just come out of a strange looking shop with cauldrons lining the windows._

 _Arthur couldn't help but notice how the man's eyes had almost exactly matched his own._

 _The train ride to Hogwarts was fun until a boy, no older that Arthur, opened his compartment door and called him a bastard. It wasn't until much later that he realized he wasn't being cursed at, but was being laughed at. Somehow, everyone knew that his mother never married, and that he was without a father._

 _Arriving at Hogwarts was one of the most magical things to ever happen to Arthur. A hulk of a man, Hagrid was his name, led the first years to the castle and didn't leave the group until they were inside and at the top of the steps, where an old woman, who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, debriefed them on the basic rules of the school before leading the new students into the large dining hall. Hundreds of students were already inside and seated at four incredibly large tables._

 _The first years were told that, one by one, their names were going to be called and they would be sorted into one of four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff._

 _The Sorting began, and one by one the eleven-year-olds put on the Sorting Hat that would decide their fate. When Arthur's name was called, an unnerving hush fell over the crowd. A group of Gryffindor boys, all sporting fiery red hair, gaped at him before nasty sneers appeared on their faces. At the time, Arthur hadn't know that these boys were his brothers._

 _He sat on the stool and placed the Hat on his head. After five minutes, it bellowed out a single word: Slytherin!_

 _Arthur hadn't known it then, but he had inadvertently broken the family line, becoming the only Slytherin in the Kirkland family since the clan even began._

 _He hadn't known it then, but all hopes of his brothers loving him shattered and turned to ash in those short, few seconds._

 **Hello there! I just recently started reading Harry Potter (I'm just about to start the fouth book) and a plot bunny appeared with a Hetalia/Harry Potter crossover. Hopefully I'll be able to finish this one... I haven't been the best with maintaining chapter fics...**

 **With the Explaining bit, Arthur is the result of an affair between his wizard father and muggle mother. It was a huge scandal in the wizarding world when they were found out, since his father was a married man with four kids, and it became even bigger when they found out she was pregnant with Arthur. The Kirkland family, being all traditional, automatically hated Arthur and his brothers were brought up around all that hate for him. The Kirkland family is also one of the leading families in the wizarding world, kind of like how the Malfoy family is, so they are very influential.**

 **I hope that helps. My friend who helped edit this didn't understand that part, so I decided to explain it now to avoid unnecessary confusion. It was going to be explained later anyway, so I thought I would go ahead.**

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated!**


	2. Chapter I

**From now on, the story will be in first person from Arthur's POV.**

~##~

To say that I disliked life at Hogwarts would be an understatement.

I absolutely _loathed_ it.

To start, my fellow students had manners rivaling a stampeding herd of buffalo. In my first year, I had thought, _'Maybe it's because I'm a first year. They'll warm up to me eventually!'_ Even then I knew that wasn't the case. In all the four houses I saw other first-years getting along with their respective housemates no matter the year. It was just me that got pushed around in the hallways. It was only me that "lost" my school supplies only for them to turn up in the washroom, drenched in (what was hopefully) water and ruined beyond repair. The only house that didn't treat me like garbage was my own house: Slytherin. However, while they didn't mock me or torment me, most simply ignored me; a few would start up a conversation out of civility, but those stopped somewhere around my third year.

Another dreadful aspect of this wretched school was those idiotic nitwits they call a staff. First, there was Professor Flitwick, who had the most ghastly habit of picking favorites based on a student's performance the first day of lessons. Then there was Professor Trelawney; she's well enough, I suppose, but she is far to ditsy and incompetent in functionality to properly teach a group of students. Don't even get me stated on Professor Binns; he isn't even alive, for goodness sake!

Then there is the "decor" around the building. The stairs are never where they are supposed to be, so one could be on their way to class and end up in the dining room. The paintings never stop giggling to themselves whenever I pass by them, and it makes me want to hurl every time it happens. The only one I can stand is a painting of a young farmer, shirtless and tanned, who never fails to greet me with a smile and an offer of an apple from the fruit tree just behind him. I can never accept it, of course, seeing as how it's trapped in a painting, but it's the thought that counts.

All in all, the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one of the most revolting places on the face of the planet.

With a groan, I heaved myself up from the warm covers of my bed, grabbed my clothes for the day, and made my way to the restroom. No one else was up; I always made it a point to wake up before the rest of my housemates, as to keep from fighting over the showers or, even worse, bathing in front of them. I shuddered at the thought.

Once inside the large bathroom, I shut the door behind me and set my robes down on the counter. I looked in the mirror.

For as long as I can remember I have hated my appearance with an unhealthy passion. My hair, a boring shade of blond, was untidy and ruffled no matter if I spent ten minutes simply combing it. My skin was pale, almost _too_ pale, and reminded me of freshly fallen snow. I _hated_ snow. My eyes were a disgusting green and looked as if I shoved them into a pot of Shrinking Potion and it had permanently stained them. My eyebrows were even more horrendous than the rest of me; they were far too bushy to be considered normal. If all of my brothers hadn't had them as well I would have thought myself hexed.

Tearing my gaze from the mirror, I stripped out of my nightclothes and turned on the shower head. If there was one thing I liked at this bleeding school it was that it had amazing water pressure.

After a thorough cleaning, I hopped out and quickly dried myself off. Then I dressed with the same haste. Even though I spent more than seven hours a week exercising, my body still disgusted me. Maybe I was just doomed to a life of hideousness.

Coming out of the washroom, I dropped onto my bed and checked the time. I still had another hour before I needed to head down to Charms, my first class of the day.

It was already turning out to be a bad day.

~##~

Oh, if only I had known just _how_ bad of a day it was going to be. If I had previous knowledge about the day's events I never would have gotten out of bed.

In Charms, my table partner messed up on a spell and made our poor rabbit, which was our test subject, burst into flames.

In Divination, Trelawney announced to the entire class how well I had done on yesterday's assignment, even going as far as to say that my Sight rivaled her own. The embarrassment alone nearly killed me.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, which I had with the Gryffindor house, taunts about my bastard birth were seemingly never ending, and some went on to say that I didn't even need this class because I "probably dabbled in it during my spare time" because I was Slytherin. I was quite shocked, since I myself had no idea I participated in the Dark Arts.

It was after dinner, and I was making my way to the Slytherin dorm when a shout sounded from behind me.

"Hey, Arthur! Wait up!"

Who the bloody hell-?

I jerked my head around and my eyes locked onto the person running towards me.

He was a Gryffindor, judging from the red and orange scarf wrapped around his neck. His hair was a dirty blond, almost the color of wheat, and his skin was tanned as if he spent every waking moment outside. His eyes, partially hidden by a pair of red spectacles, were a startling shade of blue.

He looked familiar. Not the "caught glimpses in the hallway" kind, but the "had conversations with" type. That couldn't be, though. I had never seen him before in my life...

...Right?

He slowed to a stop in front of me. A bright smile spread across his face and I cringed. It wasn't ugly or anything, it was just too _happy._ Who could reflect that much joy into a simple _smile?_

"Man, can you walk fast! I've been trying to catch up to you ever since you left the dining room." he said, a short laugh following his words. I stayed silent.

"Well, I just wanted to apologize for my fellow Gryffindors. What they said in class earlier wasn't cool, and I wanted to say something then and there but you seemed like you were handling it. Oh! My names Alfred, Alfred F. Jones! It's a pleasure to meet ya!" He continued rambling on about something or other, but I wasn't really paying attention to his words. I just wondered how anyone could talk so long without pausing for a breath.

"Excuse me, Alfred was it?" I interrupted. His mouth shut immediately. "It's rather...kind...of you to apologize for what happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I presume that's what you were prattling on about anyway." At this point he seemed like he was going to say something else, so I held up my hand to stop him.

" _However,_ am I right to assume you had not joined in on the taunting?"

A nod.

"If that is the case, then your apologies are unnecessary and not appreciated. Your "act of heroism" is misguided. If your fellow Gryffindors were indeed apologetic they would seek me out themselves to remedy the situation. So far, they have not done so. Your "apology" is hollow and I will not accept it."

By this point, Alfred's mouth was hanging wide open and his eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. I would have laughed if I wasn't so angry.

"Furthermore, I implore you to stop trying to fix your housemates' mistakes. They always talk about how cruel and slimy Slytherins are but they don't realize that they are just as horrible, if not more so. We Slytherins have long since stopped fueling the fire of house hatred, so to speak. Maybe you all should take a page from our book, wouldn't you say?"

His face was at least two shades paler than it had been before.

"Now, this has been a... _lovely_ chat, but I have more important things to do than waste my time trying to explain simple concepts to a Gryffindor." With that, I turned on my heal and continued on my way to the common room, leaving the flabbergasted boy standing alone in the corridor.

The familiar feeling of self-loathing appeared, once again, inside me, this time over how cruelly I had treated that man who only wished to show me simple compassion.

~##~

 **Constructive criticism is much appreciated, as is editing suggestions over misspellings or awkwardly phrased sentences.**

 **So how is everything coming along so far? Tell me what you think in a review, please!**

 **Updates will probably happen about once a week or so. It really depends on how much schoolwork I have and if said work hasn't killed me.**


	3. Chapter 2

It had been a week since I left Alfred standing alone in the hallway.

Life carried on relatively normal. My classmates still hated me. The teachers still aggravated me to no end. The portraits on the walls still giggled whenever they saw me. The only thing that really changed was the young farmer. He still greeted me every day, still offered me an apple, but something seemed...off. His smile was hesitant and almost forced, and he now wore a white shirt under his jean overalls. I thought about asking him what was wrong- a few times actually- but I decided against it. If he wanted me to know, he would tell me.

Alfred didn't try to speak to me again.

During DADA, I sometimes felt his gaze burning holes into my back. After our little "talk," I did a bit of research and found that he was, in fact, in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Maybe that's where I had seen him before? In any case, I never turned around to meet his eyes. What would I say, especially in the middle of class? _'Hey, I'm sorry about telling you off a week ago and making fun of your housemates. No hard feelings?'_ No way. That would just bring more unwanted attention and ridicule.

It was after my last class of the day, while I was walking through the crowded hallway, that it happened.

The only warning I had was a presence just behind me when all of a sudden I was being pulled into a dark classroom. My back slammed against a wall and I gasped, the force of the push knocking the breath out of me. An arm was pressing against my chest.

"So, you think you can tell off one of our housemates and get away with it?" a deep voiced hissed in my ear. It took me a moment, my brain still reeling from the sudden change in surrounding, but suddenly I knew what this was about.

They were talking about my little talk with Alfred. I guess that boy wasn't as nice as previously thought.

I scoffed. "It was his own bloody fault for trying to apologize for others actions," I retorted. My assaulter growled and pulled me off the wall only to slam me against the it again, this time even harder. A pained gasp escaped me and I heard not one, but three different voices laugh at the sound.

It seems my assaulter wasn't alone. My stomach dropped.

"Shut up, you filthy Slytherin!"

Oh, so this went beyond simply sticking up for poor dear Alfred, then.

 _Fuck._

"I am sick and tired of you Slytherins strutting around like you own the place! Most of all you, you bastard child! Your mother's a dirty whore, you know that? I heard Mr. Kirkland only slept with her because she begged him to. He was so ashamed with himself when he learned the little harlot was pregnant. Rightly so, too, seeing how you turned out."

 _'Breath, Arthur. Don't let his words get to you. BREATH.'_

"You know what my dad told me?" a different voice taunting, "He said that when the Kirklands found out your slut of a mother was pregnant, they tried to have someone... _take her out_ , so to say."

I almost threw up.

"But Mr. Kirkland, he said, and I quote, 'The bitch probably won't keep the baby. Family has a history of miscarriages, you see. We shouldn't worry about.' Next thing you know, she pops you outta her pussy and soils the Kirkland name."

Horror was the only feeling I held in that moment. There was no way that my father could be such a horrible person. My mother couldn't have loved someone like that. Could she?

A cold chuckle pierced the air. "Enough talk. Let's show this son of a whore a lesson, eh?"

Oh, God. I was about to be beaten to a pulp. Think, Arthur, how can you get out of this? Spells, spells, think of spells, what can you use, fuck fuck _fuck-!_

A door burst open, and suddenly the arm pressing into my chest was gone, allowing me be breath. I slid down the wall, clutching my chest and breathing heavily. I could hear a scuffle happening just in front of me, but I didn't dare intervene. That wouldn't end well.

The banging and groaning stopped, and three sets of footsteps left the room. The remaining set resounded through the otherwise empty room and stopped in front of me.

"Hey, Arthur, it's me. Are you okay?"

It was Alfred.

For the first time since I was forced into the room, I opened my eyes.

The Gryffindor boy was kneeling before me, his hand hovering between us like he wanted to lay it on my shoulder, but didn't. His hair was unkempt, probably from the fight he was just in, and his blue eyes sparkled with concern, his glasses nowhere to be seen. His school robes were crumpled in some places, probably from the three guys he just beat single-handedly.

I wanted so badly to thank him. I wanted to burst into tears and pull him closer, because I _knew_ if he hadn't shown up I would be close to dead right now. More than anything, I wanted him to know that I was so, so happy he saved me from those other Gryffindors, and that I was indebted to him for this.

However, that wasn't me.

I pushed him away.

"G-go away," I stammered out, "I had everything under control. I didn't need your help."

His face, previously showing a deep worry for my well-being, morphed into a look of confusion.

"Dude, I know that you can probably take care of yourself- you look pretty fit, what's your workout routine?- but those guys looked about ready to murder you."

I was about to respond ("What the hell did he mean 'you look pretty fit' is he mocking me?") but he kept talking.

"I don't know what that whole thing was about, but I know damn well that you did not have it under control."

There were so many things I wanted to say to that. _"The fuck do you know,"_ was one. _"Listen here, you little shit,"_ was another.

However, when I tried to say either of these, the only thing that came out of my mouth was, "H-how did you even know I was here, anyway?"

It was obvious that was not what he had been expecting. He stared at me for a moment, just long enough for it to be slightly uncomfortable, before a blush spread over his cheeks and he jerked his head towards the wall. I peeked a glance in that general direction.

Hanging on the wall was a small painting, no bigger than a textbook cover. A girl, no older than fifteen, peered at the two of us through the oil pastel, a look of concern and curiosity covering her face.

"Oh," I muttered, transfixed on the teenage graphic. Alfred mumbled something under his breath, but it was too low for me to catch it.

"Yeah...anyway," he said, drawing my attention, "you never answered my question."

I was about to ask him what question did he mean, before it came to me : _"Are you okay?"_

I huffed and crossed my arms. "Of- of course I'm fine, you git," I stuttered. I tried to stand up, but of course I stumbled, leading to Alfred having to grab onto me in order to keep me standing. I yanked myself out of his grip and tried to give him my best glare. "Do you think me so weak as to- to be frightened by something as trivial as that?"

The blue eyed boy's eyes widened and he shook his head back and forth, looking startled. "What? How the hell did you get to that conclusion? I just wanted to make sure you weren't shaken up, that's all!" he tried to reason, his large hands held in front of him as a sign of surrender. I continued to glare at him, though I felt my resolve waning. Why couldn't I just thank him and have this be over with?

"Whatever," I snapped. With shaking hands, I did my best to smooth out my robes, which were wrinkled and rumpled from the past events. Alfred's watchful gaze was ever-present. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my dorm."

I swallowed thickly, my body refusing to move even though my mind was screaming for it to do so. Alfred hadn't moved from his position in front of me.

"Hey."

"...What?"

"Why do you have such a hard time believing someone is trying to help you?"

I gasped. Stumbling backward, I felt my back collide against the wall for the third time that day. "I-I beg your pardon?"

This wasn't happening.

This wasn't _bloody happening._

"You heard me," he said, his voice calm and smooth despite the situation. "Back when I tried to apologize for my housemates' actions, you insulted me. Now, when I protect you from getting your ass beat to a bloody pulp, you accuse me of believing you to be inferior."

 _'What the fuck, what the fuck, shit I need to get out of here, shit, I need to run, run, run, ESCAPE-!'_

"Arthur."

Hands latched themselves onto my shoulders, gentle but firm. I was to frozen to shake them off. His blue eyes pierced into my green ones.

"I just want to help you."


End file.
